


Advanced Masochism 101:  An Introduction

by seperis



Series: Advanced Masochism [1]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Gen, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-11-28
Updated: 2001-11-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 15:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seperis/pseuds/seperis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Lex is curious as to why he's become a proxy stalker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Advanced Masochism 101:  An Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a clear Lex's voice yet in my head, so this is a practice run. Also, somewhat humorous, but probably only to me. Nell bashing because I can.

Lex had almost reached that point where he was going to say to hell with discretion (not to mention good taste) and just see if he could damn well _*buy*_ Lana Lang for Clark. 

So it wasn't subtle, or subversive, or even particularly manipulative unless tossing a large number of bills at someone could be considered so (in which case, that covered every strip club he'd visited in Metropolis). In fact, it was a relatively straightforward approach to the rapidly expanding problem of Lana, a first for him to attempt. Not really his style at all, though, because Lex's inclinations all ran to avoiding the _*appearance*_ of impropriety, no matter how questionable his actions. 

Buy her. How simple, reasonable, easy. Start bidding at ten grand with a top limit of seventy. He figured Nell would sell at fifty. Shit, Nell Potter would sell * _herself*_ at thirty. 

Damn. Uncomfortable thought. And really, did he want to bring that sort of history into this little moment of reflection? Think not.

But--no buying, no bidding, nothing that came within a mile of being normal or comfortable for Lex Luthor. Because unfortunately, this wasn't Metropolis, and God, did Lex miss it right now. More's the pity, too, because it was increasingly tempting to pick Clark up and just _*shake*_ some sense into him. To just damn well _*take*_ the boy, sit him down somewhere private, discuss what were some truly unbelievable levels of masochism working in Clark's system, and order him, in the name of God and Lex's sanity, to stop the fucking stalking of this incredibly, unnaturally dense girl. A girl who was somehow able to overlook a six-foot-two, following-her-around-everywhere, extremely attractive high school boy.

Shit, what exactly did she need, a note from God? A billboard? Clark naked in her bed?

Ohhh. Nice. Naked. Clark.

No.

Lex. Stop. Now. Remember that in prison, they don't serve fillet mignon.

Clark was going to have a juvie record by the end of the year the way he was going, and Lex wasn't quite sure what the price of the local police department was, much less that of whatever small town judge who would look disapprovingly down his nose at Clark's little hobby. Lex made a mental note to check it out and soon--he'd seen the telescope and noted Clark's truly unique ability to be wherever Lana was, and while Smallville held the record for the sheer number of clueless people, Clark was so blatant he might as well wear a scarlet S on his chest. There were words for this sort of behavior. Most of them had 'felony' attached and came accompanied with prison sentences and restraining orders.

Hence, Lex was now stalking Lana, because he had better lawyers and a good grasp of the concept of low-key. And that he was bothering to do this personally _*really*_ said more about Lex's personality than he was comfortable with thinking about. 

Picking at the wood of the fence, Lex decided that this strange introspective kick that he'd picked up in Smallville was something that he definitely needed to discard and soon. At this rate, he'd be re-evaluating his relationship with his father and examining self-help books that made mention of wombs and non-sexual spanking and the inner child.

Worse, he might start believing them, and Lex was clinging to his cynicism with everything in him. Clark was making it _*damned*_ difficult.

Impatiently slapping his gloves into his palm, Lex leaned against the corral fence and wondered how on earth he was going to do this anyway. Clark had very clearly passed over from the annoying-yet-innocuous fascination/obsession and into a dismal citizenship in the land of obsessive/compulsive-stalking. This wasn't going to get any better on its own, that much was obvious, and Lex had discovered that not only did he have nerves--something that he'd been certain his father had burned out of him years before-- but that this-this _*thing*_ was rubbing them to the breaking point.

Yes, it _*could*_ be fun to watch someone tie themselves up in knots like this, especially when you've done it to yourself once upon a time--Lex had been there, done that, written the memoirs, and visited rehab afterward, which apparently hadn't worked if he was finding himself acting as a fucking _*proxy*_ for the kid now. But this was _*Clark*_ , and one of those rare times where Lex was hyperaware that the situation he was putting himself in could easily be called proactive masochism in itself. He was perfectly capable of being depressed all by himself (thank you _*very*_ much for that, Dad), so actively seeking out new and uninteresting ways to _*make*_ himself unhappy was just--well, not very Lex-like.

Or, true to form, very much Lex-like pre-Smallville. Looked like some things were just fate. 

Get back to Clark. Introspection _*bad*_.

Clark was obviously _*not*_ going to do this on his own. At least, not in the near future, or even in the distant future as far as Lex could tell. Clark had turned the concept of unattainable romantic love into a refined art, almost at the level of some alternate universe version of Romeo and Juliet. In his cute angsty teenage way, he was enjoying the drama, but Lex knew for absolute fact that he himself would not be able to handle two more years of Clark's moody sighs and deep, searching looks at the clueless girl of his dreams.

So. Plan D now, and since he couldn't just buy the girl (God, he missed Metropolis more every second), what was Plan D again? Since Plans A, B, and C had all been more or less derailed _*by*_ said mopey boy, and was the kid actually _*trying*_ to sabotage himself with this girl? Interesting idea. Almost encouraging--if there _*weren't*_ words for being encouraged that also ended in 'felony'.

Also with prison sentences, restraining orders, ruined reputations, and Lex wasn't sure even his lawyers could get him off this time. A little thought tickled the back of his mind occasionally that said it might even be worth it. Pretty face, beautiful body, and those eyes. Was fillet mignon _*really*_ that damned important in the long run?

He pushed that thought deep and left it there. Fuck introspection. 

Lana. _*Lana*_. Clark wanted her, Lex wanted to get him this so just once, something would go right, and then...well, that was that. He didn't have to like it. He hadn't liked coming to Smallville and he hadn't liked the poached eggs the cook had made for breakfast. Didn't mean he wouldn't go through with it. Luthors didn't let little things like personal preference stand in the way of--of what exactly? Doing something that he knew for absolute fact would drive him up the wall in record time? Actively _*seeking*_ to remove Clark from being a very real temptation? What on _*earth*_ was wrong with him?

Smallville was _*not*_ having a good effect on his lack of principles, that was for certain.

Forty feet and six horses away, Lex caught sight of Lana as she emerged from the stables--dark hair braided back, sharpening already exotic features, riding boots polished but obviously well-used, clothes spattered in dirt and straw from whatever chores farmgirls did on weekends. Turning slightly, he could see the straw in her hair as she reached for some tack she'd been cleaning and he braced a hand on the fence and climbed over, dropping onto the hard ground of the corral. 

Get this the hell over with, go home, drink something with a high proof, and maybe, just maybe, work this mess out of his system. For good.

Sure, right, that had always worked before. And notice, he was in Smallville due to the _*last*_ time he'd fallen off the obsession wagon. So much for self-control. 

She was good with her horses, he had to give her credit--they knew he was there before she did, and she noticed their reaction almost instantly, dark eyes coming up and searching the corral. Fixing on him with innocent interest, and Lex almost smiled, because he could almost understand the attraction she had for Clark. 

Lana, by some weird twist of the subreality that was Smallville, had eyes even more innocent than Clark's. Two in one place. What were the odds? Small, delicate, fragile, practically asking for someone to rescue her from all her teenage angst, please. The stuff teenage boys with heroic tendencies practically drooled over. That'd be half the population of the world, come to think of it. He'd bet Lana was used to being stalked. Might explain why she hadn't noticed Clark's fumbled attempts at it.

"Lex?" Little smile, again, population of two here that actually had that natural reaction to him. Frankly, it was creepy, though not necessarily unpleasant. Just--strange. He was far more familiar--and more comfortable--with veiled disgust, avaricious interest, greed. All part and parcel of being a Luthor and indecently rich. "What are you doing here?"

At least she didn't call him Mr. Luthor. He'd had a lover do that once, and the memory alone was enough to cause short-term impotence. Well, it wasn't like he was having sex in the near future. 

"You're showing again?" he asked, ignoring the question as he circled the black thoroughbred, admiring the long clean lines--second generation money or not, instinct was instinct and Lex came from a long line of farmers, ranchers, and agriculturists. He had his mother's eye for good animals and this one was exceptional. Almost tempted to ask what the stud fees were, because he _*was*_ stuck here and well, everyone needed a hobby other than, say, proxy stalking for random farmboys and collecting expensive cars.

She shook her head, reaching out with one small hand, and the silky black muzzle slid over, finding her palm by instinct.

"Not anymore." Letting the stallion lick her palm, before rubbing the velvety nose. "I'm about to ride out--you want to join me?" A little smile turned up the corner of her mouth, simply friendly, and Lex couldn't help but smile back. No one, even Clark, was that comfortable with him. He gave silent thanks to Nell, who _*did*_ like Luthors pretty well, and banished very carefully from his mind the reason why. Luthors didn't get therapy for psychological trauma--they repressed. Tradition and all. "You can tell me again how wonderful Clark is and I'll explain why I'm not dating him."

No one could possibly be that utterly guileless, but apparently, the Kansas rural districts just grew these children wild. Lex wondered if it had something to do with the meteor shower, as apparently everything else did, then reached out to brush a hand along the horse's back, muscle moving sleekly beneath. He knew how to ride.

"Sold."

* * *

The thing was, he'd wanted to hate her. From that first view in the market when Clark's eyes fixed on her with utter and absorbed attention, radiating longing and pain in such waves that it had been like heat on Lex's skin.

__

*Really* wanted to hate her, so much that a part of him was searching even now for a weak spot to disgust him or a flaw to annoy him, but Lana was quite literally a clear pond of water, just like Clark. Even found himself, to his own surprise, liking her. Simple, elegant, nice, just a generally good girl (that a novelty in itself), the sort of girl one took home to Mom and Dad (well, not Lex's dad, obviously) and Lex, from the back of a horse strangely referred to as 'Twister's Folly', was fascinated in spite of himself.

Where he came from, girls weren't this innocent when they were * _born*_.

"So--you getting ready for another speech?" Teasing. Jesus.

Lex shook his head a little, guiding Twister to come abreast of her as they navigated the field. In the distance, Lex could almost see the plant over the waving fields of corn and the sky was huge and blue and so wide and open. Memories quickly repressed of the last time he'd wandered around alone under a Kansas sky. He didn't need that on top of everything else.

"Give me a few minutes--you took me off guard." And that was--well, pretty damn accurate. She really had. Must be Nell's influence--Lana's current boyfriend's family was in the Jonathan Kent Camp of Anti-Luthors. He wondered, a little idly, if they had meetings and a secret handshake, perhaps even a clubhouse and an interesting acronym. Maybe he could start checking out the possibility.

Dear God, he needed a hobby.

"And you're usually so subtle," she answered easily, and pushed her heels in, sending--Peridot? Was that its name?--into a quick trot.

Thing was, that was true, and that paused him, thinking it through. Had to be the water affecting him. He'd better stick to bottled. With a little pressure on Twister's sides, he followed her down the slope, thinking about what she'd said.

She was right. He was better at this.

"Why are you trying so hard for him?" she asked, and Lex drew back a little in speed, bringing his horse back to a trot. Keeping Lana in sight, he adjusted his seat and shrugged.

"I owe him a lot." Truth. The single most true thing he'd ever said in his life. Luthors didn't owe anyone anything, and if he pulled this off, he'd be clear. He wanted that. Badly. Personal feelings aside. There, that was a _*good*_ reason for doing this. And it even sounded somewhat noble, which was a first. "He's a good kid." Lovely kid, who deserved someone who wanted him as badly as he wanted them, and Lana just _*didn't*_ fit the bill. Well, she sure as hell wasn't Lex's first choice for Clark.

Lana's head tilted down, a strand of dark hair sliding across her cheek, before she lifted those water-clear eyes, and God, this would be easier if she wasn't so damn innocent. If only he could do this the way that came naturally, offer her whatever she wanted if she'd just do what he wanted. It had always worked before. Always.

"It's good Clark has a friend like that," Lana said slowly, and Lex caught a trace of something uncertain in her voice. Interesting. Coming up beside her, he saw one gloved hand was twisting lightly over the pommel and the expression on her face was meditative.

"Clark must have lots of friends." Truth was, though, that he didn't know, and Lex had to actually stop at the uncomfortable realization. He really _*didn't*_ know--Lex compartmentalized his life very thoroughly, a defensive leftover from boarding school hell, and when he had Clark, he wanted the boy to himself, period, even with his arguably semi-innocent intentions. He'd never liked sharing, and even now, seeing Lana and how unthreatening she would be in the long run, he wasn't sure he'd like sharing Clark with her.

No, he knew he wouldn't, and that could explain his own failure so far in this little project. Interesting. He was usually more convincing when he lied to himself. Needed to work on that.

"Not really," Lana answered with a shrug, and she shifted her seat, bringing her horse to a walk again. Looked as if she meant to say something else entirely, but the small lips shut tight and that made Lex curious. 

"Why?" Because, God, Clark just had that 'best possible friend' thing written all over him in big letters for anyone with a working IQ to read. There should be people * _lined up*_ to spend time with him, strange adolescent awkwardness aside--after all, fifteen was fifteen for everyone and puberty always sucked, and God, the boy was gorgeous. So he lacked some social skills, true--Lex had seen worse. He'd been bullied by worse.

Hell, he'd been worse himself, until he'd gotten proactive in fixing his particular flaws. Around the time he realized that people were much easier to deal with if you handled them with care. And money. Lots and lots of money.

Lana seemed uncomfortable and Lex watched in interest as she battled out her uncertainties, twisting the reins between delicate fingers. God, so open, every emotion playing across her face for anyone to see and read. He couldn't remember _*ever*_ being that open.

"You know he was--not really let around us as a kid. His parents adopted him when he was three or so." Lana shrugged. "It's a small town, and most of us, you know, grew up together. Clark--didn't."

Small town prejudice. Well, that explained a lot of things. Lana must have realized what she said, how it sounded, and a thick flush spread over her face. Not as good look for her as it was for Clark, but God, this was the second person he'd ever seen that could color like that.

Clearly, these two kids were meant to be together. What they'd do once together, however, was pretty debatable. All that innocence--play Parcheesi? Watch movies? Discuss the latest episode of Dawson's Creek? Lex couldn't even begin to imagine them doing anything vaguely in the realm of sex. Made him curious how far Whitney was getting and knocked the thought down. Prurient speculation was beneath him. At least, prurient speculation about people he had no intention of ever, ever sleeping with.

"Not that--I mean, it's just like, he's hard to get to know--now."

Talk about weird. Clark was, secrets aside, a practical piece of glass to get to know. What on earth was wrong with these people?

"Clark's not hard to get to know." Clark, given any reasonable opportunity, was amazingly open, which was possibly what made Lex so ultra-aware of the moments that Clark _*wasn't*_. Clark couldn't hide it, couldn't hide a lie, wasn't used to it and it showed in every muscle and in every expression.

Or maybe it was simply the fact that Lex had a ruined Porsche body sitting in his garage that was a visible lie all in itself.

Lana flushed even more, eyes turning down.

"Lex--"

"Never mind. I just don't understand." Kicking lightly at the gelding's side, watching the approaching trees, then sneaking a glance back. Clark's house was out of view more or less, blocked by the bulk of the stable and the rise of the land, but he'd bet anything Clark was at his telescope right this second, and why on earth hadn't his parents figured out what he was up to with that? Did they really think a fifteen year old boy was that obsessed with astronomy?

If Lex remembered correctly (and he did), it had a good view into Lana's bedroom. So. Clark had a telescope and the internet. Maybe not Parcheesi after all.

"You're loyal to your friends," Lana commented. Lex drew back a little at that, but she was studying the ground in front of them. "Clark's a great guy, you know? Just really not sure what he wants yet, if that makes sense."

And this wasn't exactly a newsflash. At fifteen, Lex himself couldn't have said for sure what he wanted for _*breakfast*_ , much less who he wanted or what he wanted to do with his life. Well, besides world domination and so forth, but that was pretty normal.

"And--I think sometimes he completely misses what's right in front of him," Lana continued with just a beautiful grasp of the obvious. Lex gave her sharp glance, but there was nothing on her face other than sweetly serious thought. It was like drowning in low-fat honey. 

"Clark's the best friend I have," Lex answered, and regretted saying anything at all. For some reason, Lana's gaze on him fixed briefly, and he wondered how much he was giving away. Well, come on, Lex, this is Smallville. Get over the paranoia.

"You should date him since he's so wonderful," Lana teased suddenly, voice rich with humor, and Lex drew in a breath, admitting defeat. This wasn't going to work, and his heart really wasn't in it anyway. Plan E now was what exactly?

"Isn't that illegal in Kansas?"

Lana laughed and he heard her horse begin to pick up speed and caught a bright smile from the corner of his eye as she passed.

"Only if you get caught."

A country girl had just told him to pursue a fifteen year old boy. His life couldn't possibly get any stranger. With a shake of his head, he followed her back to the corral.

Plan E. Right. Have to get that together. Soon.


End file.
